


The back-up plan

by LadyIrina



Series: Best laid plans [4]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pining, Protective!Saal, Whump!Peter, beware of man-smut, enter the rest of the Guardians
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-21
Updated: 2014-09-21
Packaged: 2018-02-18 07:10:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2339645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyIrina/pseuds/LadyIrina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Saal slowly approached the downed escape-pod and held his gun ready to fire. "This is Denarian Saal of the Nova Corps. Exit the ship and keep your hands where I can see them!"<br/>Seconds passed and just as he was about to yell his line again, there was a hiss and the door opened.</p>
<p>What he saw inside made Saal numbly lower his gun and frown confused.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: based solely on the movie. And this time there be whump!

The planet Xandar, 7 months after the defeat of Ronan:

The doctor was slowly unwrapping the bandages and it was only years of self-discipline which allowed Saal to sit still during the process.

His hands were itching to grab the mirror on the table next to where he was sitting and finally see the result.  
The doctors had all warned him against getting his hopes up, but so far everything had gone perfect, both during and after the procedures.

"Well?" He prompted as the doctor had finished and merely studied his face carefully.

The elderly man made a thoughtful sound and finally reached over to hand Saal the mirror.  
Now that he actually had the damn thing in his hand, the Denarian was almost afraid to look.  
It wasn't like it could get any worse, right?

He slowly raised the mirror and held his breath.

Relief instantly flooded through him at the sight. Sure, it was a far cry from perfect, but the improvement was worth the pain of the lasers doing their work.

Swallowing down a wave of emotion, Saal forced himself to calmly hand the mirror back with a light nod.  
If the face was a success then they would move on to his arm and torso, they said before the first restoration surgery. More pain, but he could handle it. Physical pain didn't frighten him anymore.  
Leaving the hospital a little while later, Saal was lost in thoughts of looking more like his old self as he sauntered towards the docking area.

He and two other soldiers were going to join a Xandarian ambassador on some intergalactic peace dinner thing at a neighboring planet. Basically a boring, glorified mission as a babysitter.

Unfortunately for Saal the ambassador had demanded someone of a Denarian rank and they were still spread thin after losing so many soldiers in Ronan's attack, giving Nova Prime little choice but to send him even as Saal was technically still on desk-duty due to his injuries.

(That was the official reason for his paperwork only status, but in reality Saal had only agreed to stay in the Nova Corps if she didn't put him on active duty. How could anyone respect a scarred leader?)

The ambassador was already waiting by the ship when Saal arrived.

He didn't look too happy with his anointed Denarian, his lip curling in disdain at the scarred face, but a quick scan of Saal's form made the small, fat man shrug. "At least you're a big boy!"

Big boy. The words made the tips of Saal's ears burn and he had to struggle to maintain his expressionless mask, as he could hear the ghost voice of a certain thief call him that.  
At least that memory drowned out the sickening shame he felt at showing his face in public.

Saal held out a suggestive hand towards the ship and cleared his throat. "Shall we?"

The ambassador nodded.

Entering the ship, Saal then spent the day's journey going over test results from recruits at the military academy and avoiding the little man, at the same time envying his two fellow soldiers traveling in the light warship behind them.

Unfortunately, once they arrived at the planet, he had to play the role of the dutiful bodyguard.

Checking rooms, possible threats and making sure the man got what he wanted, Saal was more than a little relieved when he found himself forgotten and abandoned by the snack table at the peace dinner held in a massive ballroom.

Too many people were milling around, staring at him, and he could feel cold sweat making the collar of his uniform sticking to the back of his neck.

Having put the other soldiers at the entrance and the backdoor, he half-heartedly scanned the rich people there while daintily testing the snacks placed on the table.

He had just started munching on a particularly nice truffle when suddenly the west windows exploded into showers of shards and a small ship came crashing into the ballroom.

Everything turned into chaos, with people screaming and running around.

Snapping into action, Saal yelled for one of the soldiers to cover the ambassador and the other was to keep the exit open. Then he pulled out his gun and warily approached the ship everyone else was fleeing from, with every muscle in his body tense and ready for a fight.

It looked like a small escape pod. Nothing fancy. Smoke was still coming off its hull, so it must have entered from space quickly.

Saal slowly approached the door and held his gun ready to fire. "This is Denarian Saal of the Nova Corps. Exit the ship and keep your hands where I can see them!"

Seconds passed and just as he was about to yell his line again, there was a hiss and the door opened.

What he saw inside made Saal numbly lower his gun and frown confused.

-

"Gamora?"

The woman slowly raised her face and glanced back at him. It seemed to take her a couple of seconds to remember him or maybe his scarred face threw her off? "Saal..."

Holstering his weapon, the Denarian took a step closer as he saw blood from countless wounds covering far too much of her skin. "What happened?"

Gamora grunted with pain and pressed a hand to her stomach, causing more blood to ooze out. "We were ambushed. Trapped. We managed to escape, but they discovered us and..." She frowned at the memory. "He tricked us..."

Saal turned to the security guards approaching and began barking orders. "Get a medic." He saw them hesitate. "Now!" Once they ran off, he turned back to Gamora. "Who tricked you? Where are the others?"

Gamora glanced to her right and that's when he noticed the still form in the other seat.

Drax seemed unconscious. Was he even breathing? Yes. Unconscious then.

She then turned back to Saal and cringed with pain that would have grown men screaming. "Rocket and Groot... They were out on a solo mission. They don't know."

Saal carefully placed a calming hand on her shoulder as the woman tried to undo her safety belt to get out of the seat. "Keep still. You're hurt."

"You don't understand," Gamora stated quietly. "I have to get back up there..."

"You're not going anywhere, Gamora," Saal objected gently. "Whatever it is, it'll just have to wait. You're a mess."

The assassin coughed, making her entire body shake at the effort, and when she spoke again her lips were bloodstained. "But they will kill him."

Saal felt his entire body go cold.

"Drax got hit. We had to drag him into the ship. Peter told me he'd be right behind me..." Gamora leaned her head back and closed her eyes in both frustration and resignation. "He tricked me..."

Hearing the medics approaching, Saal tried to keep his voice even. "Peter..."

She nodded.

"Who attacked you, Gamora?" 

"Reavers..." She gathered her strength and finally got unbuckled. "Their boss didn't take too kindly to losing to Peter in a card game..."

Reavers. The worst kind of space trash there was. Not just criminals, but lowest of the low, renowned for their brutality and capability for inflicting pain just for fun. Why the hell had Peter been stupid enough to mingle with cretins like that?

Seeing Gamora trying to get out of her seat, Saal only had to increase the pressure of the hand he had on her shoulder to force her back. That alone testified how weakened she was. In the old days, she would have snapped off his fingers and fed them to him before he'd known what had happened.

"You need to keep still or you'll bleed out long before you get out of atmo," Saal stated, shaking his head at her objections. "You're no good to anyone dead, Gamora." He hesitated before giving her shoulder a light squeeze. "And... don't worry about Quill. I'll get him."

He'd do what? Was that his voice? Did he really say that out loud? What the hell was he thinking?  
He had duties! He couldn't just leave the ambassador! He needed to secure the area. Report to Nova Prime. Why was his heart pounding?

Gamora looked every bit as puzzled as he was, but whatever she saw in his eyes made her lean back into the chair again. "You have to hurry..."

Saal nodded, straightening and taking a step to the side as two medics moved in to examine their patients.

"They'll still be up there," Gamora added, ignoring the man prodding at her gaping stomach wound and gave Saal their last coordinates. "But you have to hurry."

The Denarian nodded, backing away. "I know..." He'd seen photos of what the Reavers did to their victims. "I'll find him."

Turning around, he stalked towards the docking area, giving orders to his two fellow Nova Corps soldiers on his ear-piece before turning it off.

It wasn't until he'd taken off with the light warship, aiming for space at an alarming speed, that he suddenly recognized what was bothering him. What this odd feeling was.  
Denarian Saal was afraid. Not afraid to face Reavers, but afraid that he might be too late.

"Don't you dare be dead, Peter Quill," Saal mumbled. "Don't you dare."

-

He felt a flicker of dread when he arrived at the coordinates and found nothing but black space, but a few pushes of buttons on the control panel later and the energy trail left by the Reaver ship emerged on his radar.

Putting the ship in pursuit mode, Saal then got up and started shedding his Nova Corps armor so he could replace it with the plain black ones they used for undercover missions. He also added four thruster rockets to his belt, two for getting to the Reaver ship and two for returning back to this one.

He had just fully loaded his backup gun in addition to his usual sidearm when there was a proximity alert from the cockpit.  
They hadn't gotten that far. Good. No time to waste.

A quick check revealed that the Reavers hadn't noticed the smaller ship trailing behind it and hopefully it would stay that way. They were a vicious breed, but not particularly clever.

Saal grabbed a space-helmet on his way to the airlock. He quickly pulled it on, checked the guns a final time, then drew a deep breath to steel himself before entering the airlock and launching himself into space.  
The rocket thrusters worked perfectly and soon Saal was able to reach for the hatch underneath the Reaver ship that would be his way in.

Pulling out a knife, a good soldier always made sure he had one available, the Denarian pried open a small lid covering some wires. An excellent soldier always knew how to disable alarms and airlocks!

Making his way into the airlock, stabilizing the pressure with his heart thundering in his chest, Saal carefully pulled his gun out and waited for the hatch into the ship to open.  
Once it did, he heard a scream.

There was a knee-jerk reaction to run towards the sound, but Saal forced himself calm and slowly stepped inside the Reaver territory.

There was no one in sight, but that didn't mean they couldn't show up at any moment.

Saal continued to make his way down the hallway, clenching his jaw hard every time he heard screams.

Finally reaching the room containing the Reavers and their victim, Saal took a quick glance inside before leaning against the wall outside.  
He'd recognized Peter's voice at the first scream, but he didn't really want to believe it.

The Terran was up against a wall, hands pulled up in chains, and his body still trembling from the last hit with the electricity staff one of the Reavers were waving around with a laugh.  
They had removed his shirt and dunked him with water to get maximum effect.

Saal took another quick glance inside, noting where the Reavers were standing, then stepped forward and started shooting.

The attack was completely unexpected and the Reavers, scruffy men with cuts on their faces, spun around to see what was happening. Two of them fell after direct hits, but the third and final one got a few shots off and forced Saal to back out in to the hallway again.

It took two more tries to finish off the last Reaver.

Once he was certain the man was dead, Saal hastily moved over to the silent Terran.  
He reluctantly holstered his gun, knowing more Reavers could appear at any time, as Saal simply had to reach out and take Peter's face between his hands so he could gently lift it and look at him.  
There was no time for sentimentality, but he needed to see his face.

"Quill?" There was no response. A cut lip, a bruised cheekbone and dark color covering his ribs indicated they'd used their hands as well as cattle prods. Saal was suddenly worried about internal injuries. He needed to get him out of there and fast!

It was so wrong to see the usually cheerful face all bruised and bloody. Swallowing hard, Saal moved a little closer. "Peter...?" 

That was rewarded with a small sound from the depth of the other man's throat and suddenly his eyes slowly opened a tiny glitch. "Saal...?"

"I'm going to get you out of here," Saal declared, reaching up to start undoing the chains.

"The others?" Peter asked wearily. "Gamora and Drax..."

"Last I saw, they were getting medical attention," Saal answered, unlocking his left hand and moving over to the right. "They're in good hands."

The words seemed to reassure him as the second Peter was free, he simply collapsed against Saal.  
Automatically wrapping his arms around the Terran to keep him from sliding to the floor, the Denarian hoisted him slightly and sent a wary glance towards the door. "We have to go. Are you able to walk?"

Peter nodded and tried to regain his balance, but in the end Saal had to keep one arm around him, allowing the man to lean on him, while holding his gun ready in the other hand. They picked up Quill's stuff from the floor, his clothes and mask, and then slowly made their way towards the airlock.

-

Maneuvering the clothes back on him along with the mask was a bit of a challenge as Peter was barely able to stay awake, much less help, but eventually Saal knew they had pushed the time limit as far as he dared and it was time to go.

Leaving behind a small present to the Reavers, the Denarian lowered Peter into the airlock and followed himself.

The rocket thrusters worked as intended once again and soon they were soaring towards his ship.

Grabbing a hold of the hatch with one arm still around the Terran's waist, Saal realized then that Peter was unconscious now. He actually had to tighten his grip on the other man to prevent him to continuing into the never ending darkness of space.

He couldn't allow himself to think or feel, merely act, until they were both safely inside the ship. Finally onboard, he was kneeling next to the Terran until the airlock had stabilized the pressure and it was safe to remove their masks.

Saal reached out and gently turned Peter's face towards him to check his pulse. Finding it steady, he allowed himself a moment of hope.  
Peter was hurt, but it didn't look fatal. Of what he could see, at least.

He needed a doctor, that much was obvious, so Saal pulled him up to hoist him over his shoulder and carried the man into the cockpit. There he lowered him carefully into the co-pilot seat, once again checking pulse and that he was breathing, before forcing himself to walk away and find his own place in the pilot seat.

His eyes gazed calm and cold at the Reaver ship in front of them, the alarm would have gone off by now, and he slowly pulled free a small device from his belt.  
Time to give them their present, as a thanks for Peter's stay.

Pushing a button, the Denarian watched for a few seconds, the explosion reflected in his dark eyes, before turning the ship around and heading back to the planet where Peter Quill's friends were already waiting.

The journey and landing was uneventful, luckily, so Saal was a little surprised when Peter's eyelashes fluttered as he was about to hoist him up over his shoulder again to leave the ship.  
"Peter?"

The Terran mumbled something, gathered himself, then slowly opened his eyes a glitch and gave the faintest of smiles at the sight. "Saal... Didn't dream..."

Saal pulled lightly at his arm. "Are you able to get up?"

Peter nodded, but after a couple of tries, the Denarian decided to help him and kept his arm around the man's waist while wrapping Peter's arm over his shoulder.  
They made slow progress out of the ship, down the ramp and into the main building.

"Where are... we going?" Peter slurred, struggling to place one foot in front of the other.

"We are going to get you to the hospital," Saal replied. 

The effect was instantaneous. The Terran dug his heels in, started squirming and tried weakly to push himself free, mumbling frantic objections.

Struggling to keep a hold of him so Peter wouldn't fall flat on his face, Saal frowned with both confusion and annoyance. "What? What's wrong?"

Peter gave up fighting for a moment, shaking his head while trembling with exhaustion. "No. No hospital. No."

Saal considered just knocking him out and carrying him there anyway, but there was something in the man's eyes that made him pause. Genuine fear. "You're hurt, Peter."

The other man just kept shaking his head and eventually began to try to fight himself free once more, despite sweat beginning to soak his skin, so Saal finally yanked him close to prevent him from hurting himself. "Fine. Alright. Calm down."

Peter sent him a feverish stare, appearing to be lost in a bad dream. "No... hospital..."

"I said alright," Saal snapped back at him. He considered his options and finally sighed. "Come on then."

"Where...?" Peter mumbled, running dangerously low on energy again. 

Despite his better judgment, Saal told him of his decision. "I'm taking you back to my quarters."

-

Peter could feel himself swimming in and out of consciousness. 

He tried to walk, he really did, yet he could feel it was Saal's strong arm holding him up on his feet and more or less carrying him along.

But that was nothing new for Denarian Saal, was it? He was used to carrying people and their burdens as his own. It was part of who he was. He was strong so others didn't have to be.  
That was what made him both infuriating and admirable. Always so noble. Always doing the right thing! 

Never putting himself or his own wants and needs first, everything polar opposite of what Peter had been taught growing up among the Ravagers.  
Everything he should loathe about a person, yet it only seemed to make him more and more hopelessly fascinated by the man.

Peter had met his share of hypocrites, claiming to live such a life, but Denarian Saal was the first man he'd met who actually lived by his beliefs. 

The next thing Starlord was conscious enough to register was a door opening and they entered a luxurious hotel room.

He groaned both in relief and pain when he was lowered on a mattress, but he made sure to reach out and grab Saal's hand before the other man could move away.  
Had to make him understand.

Peter had made a mistake not walking away from the Reaver challenge, but this time his bad call had gotten his friends hurt. He had made plenty of mistakes in the past, he was turning into an expert at making mistakes, but he hadn't even thought about how it could include his friends now.

He had always been alone in the past. He didn't have to consider the consequences of his actions. But seeing Drax going down, Gamora hurt, and realizing that it was his fault...

Peter didn't hesitate to sacrifice himself to the Reavers if it meant his friends got away.  
It was the least he could do. It was his own damn fault.  
After all, it wasn't the first time he had been given a beating.

It was once the beating was over and the electricity entered the picture, along with the graphic descriptions of what they would do to him once their leader arrived, that Peter felt fear creeping in.  
He had suddenly realized that there was a real possibility that he was going to die at their hands.

Starlord, brought down by a card game he didn't even need to cheat at to win!

Yet the hurting, the snarled threats and the darkness had all been brought to an end when a familiar voice had called his name.

Peter had been 110% certain he was hallucinating when he opened his eyes and saw Saal's face, but he knew he wasn't once the chains were gone and he slumped against the other man's body that felt too solid for a trick of the mind.

"Thanks..." Even if he was too exhausted and hurt to find the correct words, Peter knew Saal would be able to read his gratitude in his voice and his touch.

To his relief, Saal gave a faint smile. "Rest. I'll check up on Gamora and Drax. Alright?"

Desperately wanting to go with him, see his friends with his own eyes, Peter knew he wouldn't make it out of the room. His body was shutting down, no matter what he did to fight it. "Tell them... sorry."

"I will," Saal assured quietly. "You just rest now. I'll be back shortly."

Peter was back in the darkness within seconds.

-

Turning the ear-piece back on, Saal checked in with his two fellow soldiers, dodging questions and giving them new orders, he turned it back off as he stepped into the hospital.  
The woman in the reception gave him instructions about where he could find Drax and Gamora and he was gazing in at the two through a massive window in the hallway when a voice spoke his name.

"Saal. Care to explain what the hell has happened?"

The Denarian glanced over to see the raccoon standing next to him, barely able to reach up to gaze into the sickeningly white room as well. "Rocket. Didn't know you were here."

"Just arrived," was the clipped answer. "Found the Milano abandoned, then debris from a ship blown up mid-space, so I tracked an escape pod to here."

"To be honest, I don't even know the full story myself," Saal admitted, returning his gaze to the still forms of Drax and Gamora. "I was here on a mission when the pod crash landed. Drax was already out of it, but Gamora told me Peter was in trouble. Reavers."

"Reavers?" Rocket did not like that name. "And Quill? Where's Peter?"

"He, uhm," Saal started, not sure how to explain. "He's beat up, so I'm going to get a doctor to check him out. I wanted to bring him to the hospital, but he flat out refused."

Rocket shrugged. "I'm not surprised."

Saal blinked curiously and glanced over at him again. "Oh?"

"As a little boy, he watched his mother die in one of these places," Rocket explained. "Figures he doesn't really take a shine to them."

Hit hard by the image, Saal drew a slow breath and felt irrationally guilty for getting annoyed at Peter earlier.

"She was also the one who gave him that walkman."

Oh, ok, now he was just feeling plain guilty.

"I never got to say sorry," Rocket suddenly said.

Frowning confused, Saal shook his head. "What?"

Rocket shrugged again. "I couldn't help you. At Xandar."

There was a flash of memory, pressing himself back into the seat as flames and unyielding metal crept ever closer as he called out for help. Saal shuddered and had to gather himself to speak. "There was nothing you could do." He cleared his throat. "And it worked out fine after all."

"No, it didn't," Rocket stated calmly, raising a small paw to the window. "Not really. I would have helped you, you know?"

Saal frowned. "I know you would have. What are you..."

"That's why I didn't say anything when Peter didn't want to leave. I felt guilty."

"You're not making any sense, Rocket," Saal declared.

Rocket didn't take his eyes off his friends. "Peter told us you were in a bad way. Holed up in your apartment. He never could turn his back on someone needing help. The idiot." He sighed. "Listen, I'm going to hang out here with them. Make sure he's okay, okay?"

"Okay," Saal repeated numbly, watching as Rocket moved over to open the door to the hospital room.

At that moment the door opened and a doctor halted on her way out from the room. "Oh, dear!" She gazed from Rocket to Saal. "I'm dreadfully sorry, sir, but we don't allow pets in the rooms here."

"WHAT?!" Rocket roared.

Darting over, Saal grabbed the raccoon by the back of his jacket as he was about to charge and sent the doctor a narrow look. "This here is Rocket. He was one of the five heroes who saved Xandar. If he is treated with something other than the utmost respect, I shall personally make sure that Nova Prime is informed about this. Do I make myself clear?"

Both the doctor and Rocket were staring at him.

"Well?" Saal demanded and the doctor nodded frantically. After that, he gestured for Rocket to enter the room.

Smirking amused, Rocket gave a little salute in thanks . 

Saal nodded in return, before turning to grab the doctor's arm. "First you're going to update me on their conditions and then I have a job for you."


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything was a mess. Voices, flashes of lights, memories and the never ending feeling of fear and not knowing... something...  
> "Hey..." A voice sailed through it all and reached out for him. "Peter, hey, you're dreaming..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: based solely on the movie!

Everything was a mess. Voices, flashes of lights, memories and the never ending feeling of fear and not knowing... something...

"Hey..." A voice sailed through it all and reached out for him. "Peter, hey, you're dreaming..."

Opening his eyes, Peter found himself in the luxurious hotel room and Saal was sitting next to him on the bed, drawing a cool washcloth along Starlord's jawline. "Saal..."

"Had my share of nightmares to recognize a bad one," the soldier offered quietly.

For someone with his background, Peter rarely had bad dreams and he felt oddly shook up. Probably because he was still weakened by the ordeal with the Reavers. "Drax? Gamora?"

Saal straightened slightly. "They're going to be just fine. The doctors are having a field day watching them heal freakishly fast, thanks to whatever has been done to them. Oh, and Rocket arrived as well. He's waiting for them to wake up." He let the cloth wash away the final traces of blood on his face.

A little of the tension disappeared from Peter's stomach. At least they were going to live. "Pissed off, huh?"

Saal made a thoughtful sound. "Not as bad as you'd think. Mostly he's just glad you're all alive, I reckon."

A little more of the tension went away.

"Had a doctor check you while you were out, by the way. Beat up, but otherwise fine."

Well, Peter was feeling far more like himself already. Battered and bruised, but able to think and notice a new softness to Saal's eyes. There was something about the way he was looking at him.  
Whatever it was, he decided to exploit it.  
Reaching out, Peter took a hold of Saal's arm and tugged lightly.

He was pleasantly surprised when the Denarian affably moved up to settle next to him, his legs stretched out on the bed and his arm sliding around Peter's shoulders as he put the washcloth on the nightstand next to the bed..

Squirming over on his side, ignoring his body's complaints, Peter adjusted himself to the solid, warm form next to him and gave a content sigh.

"Why were you stupid enough to get involved with Reavers?" Saal asked, leaning down to press his lips to Peter's untidy hair. Almost as if he had to make sure he was really there and really okay.

Closing his eyes at the sensation, Peter slid his own arm over the other man's waist. "I was bored."

The answer made the soldier snort a cynical laugh. "You tend to make a lot of bad decisions based on that, Quill."

Peter raised his eyebrows. "You have no idea..."

He tried to get comfortable a couple of times, huffing increasingly annoyed at buttons, medals and other decorations poking at him, before leaning back slightly to gaze up at Saal's puzzled face. "Dude, jacket's gotta go."

Saal considered it for a few seconds, then opened the military jacket. He sat up to remove it and was about to fold it nicely when Peter yanked it away and threw it to the floor.

"Oy," Saal objected, startled, but Peter merely pushed him back into the pillows and curled up to him again.

Rubbing his cheek against the warm undershirt covering that oh so nice torso, Starlord made a satisfied sound. "Ah, yes. Perfection."

"That's going to wrinkle, you know," Saal grumbled, clearly not happy, but his arm still settled comfortably around Peter again.

"I have complete faith in your ironing skills," was the mumbled reply.

-

For a long while, Saal was just savoring the quiet. Occasionally stroking a hand through Peter's hair or trailing fingertips over his skin. The Terran was asleep again within minutes of making Saal shed his jacket and an odd sense of peace settled in the room.

There were a thousand things to worry about, Saal knew that, everything from Drax and Gamora to Nova Prime's reaction to his actions, but for now... everything was just perfect.

It was that sense of peace and quietness that eventually lulled the soldier into drowsing as well. He wasn't going to sleep, wasn't even tired, but Saal knew he must have nodded off eventually as he woke up to the feeling of lips brushing over his throat.

Humming an approving sound, the Denarian opened his eyes and glanced down at Peter. "Bored again?" At least the Terran looked better as some color had returned to his previously ashen face.

Peter chuckled and stretched up towards him. "A bit." 

The first touch of lips upon lips was just a brief and teasing thing, but Saal stroke his hand up to rest behind Peter's neck and moved him in for a better taste.

That made the Terran chuckle again.

As usual, it didn't go long before sweet kisses started to change into something deeper and with a touch of hunger.  
Saal was almost lost to the feeling when he felt the other man flinch.

Leaning back, and preventing Peter from following by a firm grip on his neck, the Denarian sighed regretfully at the sight of the split lip bleeding again.

Raising his other hand, Saal gently wiped the blood from Peter's lower lip. "You're not up for this."

Peter scoffed and then waggled his eyes brows as he inched even closer. "Oh, I am must definitely 'up' for this. Can't you tell?"

Absurdly enough, Saal could feel a light heat to his face as the Terran was making no effort to hide the hardness now pressing to the soldier's hip. "Peter Quill... Your libido is stronger than your common sense."

"So I've been told," Peter mumbled, trying to get free to attach his lips to Saal's neck. "I'm a grown man, officer. I can make my own decisions and everything."

So tempting. So very, VERY tempting, Saal realized.  
He swallowed hard before making a decision.

Keeping his grip on Peter's neck, the Denarian let his other hand slide down Peter's chest, down his stomach and start working on opening the man's pants. 

It was absolutely fascinating to watch the pupils in Peter's eyes dilate as his hand found his prize and Saal let his fingers caress and curl around the man's cock.

"Saal," Peter pleaded breathlessly, still trying to pull free from the iron grip on his neck.

Hushing him gently, Saal began moving his hand. "I got you. Relax."

It was a bittersweet experience to manipulate the Terran's desire higher and higher while denying himself anything, but Saal knew Peter was still too roughed up to be doing anything but receiving,  
By the time his grip was slippery and perfect, Saal was struggling hard not to give in to the desperate pawing and pleading.  
He had to focus on Peter, not himself, was the stern reminder.

Saal tightened his grip ever so slightly and added a twist with his wrist, occasionally switching to short tugs. It made the other man give a groan that went straight to Saal's own aching need.  
It didn't take long before the Terran's hips was moving insistently.

"Saal," Peter gasped, his hands holding on to the soldier like a lifeline. "Saal, I'm..."

"It's okay," Saal soothed. "I got you."

Peter closed his eyes tight, his spine arched and hot liquid spilled over Saal's hand in eager spurts.

Continuing to move his hand, carefully encouraging the man to give all he had to give, Saal eventually eased up and let him sink slowly back to lie on the soft mattress.

It was almost reward enough to watch the Terran panting for air with a blissful expression on his face, even as Saal felt tense and uncomfortable himself.

When Peter slowly opened his eyes, turning his head slightly to grin up at him, the Denarian tried in vain to convince himself the sight didn't make his heart jump.

-

Peter blindly reached out and placed his hand on Saal's thigh. "C'mere, big boy. Your turn," he slurred lazily and was looking forward to returning the favor. Preferably twice.

Saal shook his head with a faint excuse for a smile. "It's okay. I'm okay. You rest now." He turned to pick up the wash cloth, cleaning both himself and Peter in calm, soothing movements.

Frowning, the Terran tried to make sense of what he was saying, but failing. "Either your fine self gets down here on this mattress with me or I'm climbing you like a tree."

"You're exhausted, Peter," Saal reasoned, throwing the cloth away. "It's alright, yeah? Sleep."

Peter glared at him for exactly two and a half second, then he bolted into action.

He heard Saal make a startled sound, but he was unable react fast enough to prevent Starlord from rolling over, shuffling downwards and settling between his legs after a rather rough shove at the Denarian's thigh.  
"What do you think you're..." Saal started, but he never got to finish the sentence as Peter was already undoing his pants with his elbows resting on each side of the other man's hips. 

The words turned into a half-strangled sound the second he got his fingers around Saal's very hard, very nice, cock and guided it out from confinement, where he wanted it.  
Peter was almost sorry he didn't get to see the look on Saal's face, but he heard the gasp as he drew him into his mouth.

Oh yes, Peter Quill was an excellent kisser, no matter which body part was involved.

Mindful of teeth and teasing with his tongue, Peter made Saal slump backwards on the bed and then made him arch off of it every time he applied a little extra suction.

The man was already pretty riled up so it wasn't such a big surprise that Saal was losing control within minutes, making it necessary to hold him down by applying pressure on the elbows resting on his hips.

Although, Peter was actually impressed when the Denarian stroke a hand through Starlord's hair and it was a gentle touch, nothing like the commanding and suffocating hands he'd experienced in his younger, more inexperienced, years.

A little trick with his tongue, however, had the man reaching his other hand up for the metal bar serving as a bedhead, needing something to hold on to in a very tight grip. 

Peter wondered briefly if Saal had those handcuffs with him... Look at those muscles in those arms...

Maybe later, he decided and returned to the mission of getting Saal off, just to prove that Peter Quill was never too banged up for a little banging, thank you very much!

A little tongue action, some creative suction, trailing his hand where his mouth couldn't reach, and then Saal was helplessly straining against the elbows holding him down as his release rushed through him.

Once Peter had allowed the other man to ease down, Starlord crawled up to fold his arms over Saal's stomach and leaned his chin on them with the smug grin.

Panting up at the ceiling, the Denarian was looking slightly shell-shocked and pleasantly dazed. Eventually he noticed he was being watched and huffed a lock of his black hair out of his face before he glanced down. "What?"

Peter shrugged. "Well, I 'was' gonna ask if you enjoyed yourself, but..."

Saal frowned in dry confusion, ever the logical creature, so Peter nodded for him to take a glance up above his head.

The soldier leaned his head back and peered up. Peter could see his throat work as he swallowed. A few seconds passed and then there was a quiet; "Oh."

The metal bar was bent completely out of shape.

He met Peter's eyes again with a slightly panicked look. "I'll compensate the hotel."

"I have no doubt," Peter replied smoothly. He then waggled his eyebrows. "I'm just curious how you're gonna explain it!"

Saal closed his eyes with a pained expression and Peter smiled with fond resignation.

If the guy only could learn to live a little, small stuff like this wouldn't bother him.  
Peter could teach him. Show him how to live. There was so much he wanted to show him...

Suddenly Peter had to get up, get away, and managed to get half-way out of the bed before his entire body locked up and he couldn't help the pained sound as he collapsed.  
Not fully healed after all then.

Luckily he didn't fall too far as Saal moved with an unnatural speed and caught him.

Peter gave a faint smile of gratitude, trying to find his balance. "I just... I have to go and see them."

"What you need," Saal declared quietly, "is a shower and some food. I'll take you to them later, ok?"

Considering it, Peter eventually gave a faint nod.

-

Knocking on the bathroom door, Saal waited for Peter to answer before opening it and entering. "I brought you some clothes. I'll leave them by the door here, ok? Food should be here shortly."

There was a muffled thanks from somewhere inside the steamy room and the Denarian quickly backed out into the bedroom again.

He tried to avoid looking at the head of the bed, the twisted metal mocking him and his lousy self-control, but the only thing stronger than the embarrassment was the memory of Peter's mouth on him and he did not dare to venture there either.

Saal was actually grateful when there was a knock on the front door and the food arrived. Signing for the room service, he had just shut the door again when Peter came into the room.

Hair still wet from the shower and with a sheepish smile on his face, the Terran looked far younger than he any right to. And Saal couldn't help but to feel strangely approving of seeing him dressed in his dark grey t-shirt and black army pants.

Pointing, almost like an accusation, at the table with food, Saal tried to remember how it was to be a calm and collected soldier instead of this constant mess of emotions.

Peter shuffled over, his body slightly stiff from the visit to the Reavers, but he sank down on the chair and started shoving food into his face.  
Saal took his place on the chair opposite of the table, pouring himself a cup of black coffee.

"What's with the...?" Peter asked through half-chewed food and gestured to the left side of his face.

Saal sipped at the hot liquid, mostly to buy himself time, then gave a little shrug. "They said with a little more time and a few more surgeries, they might make it less... horrible."

Peter paused in his chewing, frowning, then he swallowed and reached for his own cup with a too casual expression. "It's really not that bad, Saal." He poured some coffee for himself, not taking his eyes off the cup. "You don't gotta cut and burn your face to fix something that doesn't need fixing."

Trying to decipher whether the man was mocking him or not, Saal was surprised to find that he was dead serious.  
Peter Quill saw him as Denarian Saal, not as The Scarred Misfit as Xandar, including Saal, saw him.

The realization hit him hard and the soldier had to clutch his cup hard so he wouldn't act on the insane impulse he felt to reach for the Terran.

Silence followed, both swaying on the verge of saying or doing something stupid, when they were suddenly interrupted by a loud ringing sound that told Saal he had an incoming call on the room's screen.  
Clearing his throat, the Denarian got up and moved over to answer the call.

He was more than a little surprised to find Rocket's face appearing on the screen. "Rocket? What is going on?"

"Hey, Saal," Rocket replied. "Got a little problem. You got Quill there?"

Like a bad rumor, Peter suddenly appeared and slinked in front of him. "I'm here. What problem?"

"Drax woke up," the raccoon told them with a fang-filled and slightly resigned smile. "He didn't approve when the nurses came to do their tests. Had to get him out of there."

Saal frowned. "Gamora?"

"Already awake," Rocket said. "We're waiting at the docking bay, Quill. Get your ass down here. We gotta leave this place before Drax decides to go back and follow through with his threats, yeah?"

"I'll be there in three minutes," Peter promised, ending the call with a touch to the screen.

-

Glancing up at Saal, Peter tried a faint smile. "I gotta go..."

Saal nodded. "I heard." He sighed and leaned down to pick up his discarded jacket, brushing imaginary dust off it. "I'll walk you down there. That way I'll know no wallets or anything will mysteriously disappear on the way."

Peter managed a ghost of a laugh and shrugged. "Yeah, I..." He pointed towards the door and walked towards it with the other man tagging behind.  
He had just barely opened the door when he slammed it shut again and turned to face Saal. "Thank you." Peter cleared his throat and struggled to maintain eye contact. "For saving my life. Thanks."

Saal shrugged, as if it hadn't been a big deal. "You saved my life. This way I figure we're even, yeah?"  
A life for a life...

Peter hesitated, glancing down at his feet until he had gathered enough courage, then gazed back up at the other man. "Hey... could you...?"

"Could I what?"

"Could you..." Dammit, why was it so hard to ask? Peter forced himself to simply do it. "Could you smile for me again?"

That brought a puzzled expression to the Denarian's face. "What? Whatever for?"

How could Peter explain how scared he was to face his friends again? How he didn't know how they would react to being the victims of his idiocy? What if they left him? What if he was alone again?  
Peter tried, and failed, at a smile of his own. "I just... need to see it again, okay?"

Saal studied him for a few seconds, clearly trying to understand the reason behind the odd request, and whatever he saw must have been enough.  
Peter watched in amazement as Saal's neutral face changed into someone younger and softer as a small smile that could only be described as warm and affectionate emerged. "Peter Quill... The walking paradox..."

Exhaling, Starlord tried to memorize the image and as it faded he couldn't prevent himself from abruptly cupping Saal's face between his hands and claiming his lips forcefully.  
The Denarian made a muffled sound, but Peter merely kissed him harder. Hard enough to hurt.  
Before the soldier had the chance to do anything though, Peter ended it equally abruptly and tore the door open to stalk down the hallway.

His lip had been split open again and he absently ran the tip of his tongue over the wound, trying to convince himself he didn't want to run to the other side of the planet and avoid having to face Drax and Gamora again.  
Only the steady steps of Saal following behind him gave Peter a faint feeling of security.

All his life he'd been running from responsibilities and any emotional connections, but the fight against Ronan had left him with a weird realization. He didn't run from place to place to escape familiar bonds, he had been trying to keep busy so he wouldn't feel lonely.

No, this time he would face the music. Peter owed them that much.

He'd almost gotten them killed because his head had been somewhere else. They deserved the chance to beat the crap out of him at least.  
When the door to the docking bay opened, Peter froze at the sight of the small group in front of the Milano.

Gamora was talking to a security guard, Drax and Rocket were arguing over something, and the pot with the increasingly larger Groot was on the ground next to the raccoon.

His family, if you didn't include his love-hate for Yondu. 

Turning to face Saal, Peter felt another wave of sadness roll over him as it always did when he had to leave the dark haired soldier behind. "So..."

-

Saal straightened, unknowingly going into his soldier pose, and made an effort to appear unaffected. "At least I get to say goodbye this time."

Peter had the decency to look a little sheepish at the verbal jab. "I didn't think you wanted me to be there when you woke up..."

The admission felt like a punch to his gut and Saal found it increasingly hard to act nonchalant. He'd made it pretty clear how he felt about his ilk, hadn't he? But Peter... Peter was different. "I've woken up to worse sights."  
That earned him a little laugh.

"Stay out of trouble, Quill," Saal admonished, placing his hands behind his back and taking a hold of his own wrist to once again prevent himself from reaching out for the Terran.

\- Be careful. - Will I see you again? - Where are you going? - Please, stay...?  
There was a long line of questions Saal wanted to ask him, but the Denarian bit down hard on the urge.

Peter nodded. "Yeah. You too." He lifted a hand to point to the left side of his own face. "And remember, that doesn't matter to someone who wants to be with you..."  
Before Saal could answer, Peter turned and walked towards his ship.

The Terran was only a short distance away when Gamora stalked towards him and Saal flinched in sympathy when the woman gave Peter a hard punch to the face.

Clutching his jaw, his lip once again bleeding, the once so confident thief was glancing up at the assassin with uncertainty written all over his face.

"You don't DO that," Gamora snarled. "You don't trick us. You don't stay behind to die. When things go bad, we face them TOGETHER! Got it? You don't EVER get to do that again!"  
Uncertainty was replaced with wonder and Peter gave a nod without removing his hand.

Saal then started as Gamora turned her attention to him and marched over. 

He tensed, slightly worried, but forced himself to stand his ground once she stood in front of him.

"I owe you for helping us and that idiot," Gamora said, taking a hold at the front of Saal's uniform.

Blinking, Saal glanced briefly over at Peter, still frozen in the same position, before focusing on the assassin again. "I, well, it was my duty..."

Gamora smirked, that knowing look in her eyes somehow reminding him of what he'd seen in Nova Prime's gaze, and Saal was unprepared for when she tugged him down and gave him a soft, chaste kiss on his lips.

"Thank you," she whispered.

Saal was completely stunned.

Releasing him, Gamora then turned on her heel and marched back towards the ship. "Come on, Peter. We're leaving."

Drax stomped onboard the Milano, Rocket gave a little wave to Saal, Gamora picked up the pot with Groot and they all disappeared inside, except Peter Quill.

Halting on the ramp, the Terran stood gazing back at Saal and the Denarian desperately wanted to know what was going through his head.  
There was no doubt he was studying Saal, thinking, considering, then gave the little nod he always gave when he decided something, before he walked inside the ship and the ramp closed behind him.

Watching the ship take off, Saal couldn't help but to wonder what Peter had decided on this time...


End file.
